Shunga: How Erotic Art was Presented in Japanese Culture During the Edo Period
This essay will explore how erotic art has been presented in Japanese culture, specifically
during the Edo period. It will look at themes such as the disparity between erotica and
pornography, how artists may convey humour to elicit a certain response from the viewer, and
consider why certain visual motifs are repeated. The first half will focus on the historical and social
context of the creative practice of Shunga (“spring pictures”), and the second half will analyse the
traditional images directly, and how Shunga is so incredibly uncensored, as opposed to erotic
works in western culture. How does drawing as a limitless tool allow for non-physical and
imaginary erotica to surpass societal boundaries?
Before this analysis commences, we must first understand the difference between erotica and pornography. Despite their differences, philosophers from Plato and Plotinus to Shaftesbury and Dideerot have described ‘beauty’ as an underlying harmony that has a pleasing sensory effect. John Stagliano, a porn producer and Objectivist stated “...that pornography is art hinges on the value I put on sexual arousal. I submit that is as valid an emotional response as fear, hate, joy, or any other emotion. Those that don't think pornography is art perhaps don't value the sexual response and therefore dismiss porn as art. Still, if their response to it was immediate revulsion than that in itself proves that it is art.” 1 From these descriptions we can deduce that ‘porn’ has the sole purpose to provide a simulacrum for you to step into, a fantasy or a story conjured by imagination in pursuit of personal, carnal pleasure. Erotica, while it may inspire some carnal urge, does not make this its primary aim, but instead portrays or promotes and emotional response rather than sexual urge. In western painting, most nakedness is depicted as pure and non-carnal, attention is not drawn to explicit areas of the body, such as genitalia, and the primary purpose is not to inspire carnal lust for the naked figure. For example; paintings of cherubs, celebrations of mother figures featuring bare breasts and curves as symbolism for fertility and riches. The goal is more inclined towards inspiring adoration, love, reverence, or general respect for their role as a human being. Where Shunga presents itself different visually, it holds a similar goal in mind. Tim Clark states; “At its best, Shunga celebrates the pleasures of lovemaking, in beautiful pictures that present mutual attraction and sexual desire as natural and unaffected”. 2
Shunga was most popular around the Edo period (1600-1868) with over 2000 publications created, each with thousands of copies. The illustrative art form typically comprised of woodblock print or ink on paper, particularly in the context of handscrolls and illustrated texts. Beyond its aesthetic appeal, the primary use of Shunga would have been to view the paintings in an intimate setting with close friends or sexual partners, or to provide sexual education for young people. It was even considered ‘visual encouragement’ for warriors going to war. Like most art throughout history, Shunga was predominately commissioned and produced by men, however it has also been found among material goods offered up to a Japanese bride; suggesting that the work was also admired and valued by women.
Shunga was known in earlier times as warai-e, which translates to mean “laughing pictures”, or warai-hon; meaning “laughing books” 3. Warai implied that the content was designed to show the emotions of happiness, enjoyment, as well has having the hidden meaning of the vulva. More importantly than this however, and a subject I will be referring back to through this essay, is the strong humorous elements warai-e cultivates.
According to Kojiki, the solar goddess Amaterasu, in a fit of fury and grief, shut herself inside the Ama-no-Iwato ("heavenly rock cave”) after her brother went on a rampage. She took her light; the world was plunged into darkness. Amanouzume (goddess of dawn, mirth and revelry), decided to perform a dance in which she flashed her genitals; this caused the myriad god to fall into a fit of laughter, stirring Amaterasu in her cave and causing her to open the door in curiosity. Amanotajikarao (etymology carries the connotation of a male god with great physical brute strength) then forced open the door wider and light was restored to the world. This particular
Before this analysis commences, we must first understand the difference between erotica and pornography. Despite their differences, philosophers from Plato and Plotinus to Shaftesbury and Dideerot have described ‘beauty’ as an underlying harmony that has a pleasing sensory effect. John Stagliano, a porn producer and Objectivist stated “...that pornography is art hinges on the value I put on sexual arousal. I submit that is as valid an emotional response as fear, hate, joy, or any other emotion. Those that don't think pornography is art perhaps don't value the sexual response and therefore dismiss porn as art. Still, if their response to it was immediate revulsion than that in itself proves that it is art.” 1 From these descriptions we can deduce that ‘porn’ has the sole purpose to provide a simulacrum for you to step into, a fantasy or a story conjured by imagination in pursuit of personal, carnal pleasure. Erotica, while it may inspire some carnal urge, does not make this its primary aim, but instead portrays or promotes and emotional response rather than sexual urge. In western painting, most nakedness is depicted as pure and non-carnal, attention is not drawn to explicit areas of the body, such as genitalia, and the primary purpose is not to inspire carnal lust for the naked figure. For example; paintings of cherubs, celebrations of mother figures featuring bare breasts and curves as symbolism for fertility and riches. The goal is more inclined towards inspiring adoration, love, reverence, or general respect for their role as a human being. Where Shunga presents itself different visually, it holds a similar goal in mind. Tim Clark states; “At its best, Shunga celebrates the pleasures of lovemaking, in beautiful pictures that present mutual attraction and sexual desire as natural and unaffected”. 2
Shunga was most popular around the Edo period (1600-1868) with over 2000 publications created, each with thousands of copies. The illustrative art form typically comprised of woodblock print or ink on paper, particularly in the context of handscrolls and illustrated texts. Beyond its aesthetic appeal, the primary use of Shunga would have been to view the paintings in an intimate setting with close friends or sexual partners, or to provide sexual education for young people. It was even considered ‘visual encouragement’ for warriors going to war. Like most art throughout history, Shunga was predominately commissioned and produced by men, however it has also been found among material goods offered up to a Japanese bride; suggesting that the work was also admired and valued by women.
Shunga was known in earlier times as warai-e, which translates to mean “laughing pictures”, or warai-hon; meaning “laughing books” 3. Warai implied that the content was designed to show the emotions of happiness, enjoyment, as well has having the hidden meaning of the vulva. More importantly than this however, and a subject I will be referring back to through this essay, is the strong humorous elements warai-e cultivates.
According to Kojiki, the solar goddess Amaterasu, in a fit of fury and grief, shut herself inside the Ama-no-Iwato ("heavenly rock cave”) after her brother went on a rampage. She took her light; the world was plunged into darkness. Amanouzume (goddess of dawn, mirth and revelry), decided to perform a dance in which she flashed her genitals; this caused the myriad god to fall into a fit of laughter, stirring Amaterasu in her cave and causing her to open the door in curiosity. Amanotajikarao (etymology carries the connotation of a male god with great physical brute strength) then forced open the door wider and light was restored to the world. This particular
aspect of Japanese mythology really highlights how the comic and the sexual appear inseparable,
in this situation sexual performance presents a motive for laughter.
Shunga is more often than not presented alongside text. It is encouraged to view Warai-e and Warai-hon as integrated works of image and text instead of separate. Typically the texts come in four sections Jobun (prefaces), Kotobagaki (narratives), Kakiire (dialogue or other such text between figures within the image), and Tsukebumi (appended texts). The prefaces are usually of historical inclination, surveying the origins of love and sex, as well as reflecting humour by imitating serious texts, which provided juxtaposition with the visual content.
When considering Edo Japan and the countries history, it does not appear that images this explicit would be accepted. Where society was under Confucian law, Shinto religion did not deem sexual pleasure a sin and these images, along with physical pleasure, was often enjoyed in private, behind closed doors, and occasionally rolled up and hid in the sleeves of Kimonos. Shunga also serves testament to an open-minded society; where European sensibilities at the time would have seen Shunga as pornographic and Christianity and Islam denounced sexual pleasure, the art was before its time in sexual liberation through erotic art. Not only does Shunga typically depict heterosexual couples but approved and encouraged homosexuality and liberated female sexuality.
However, that being said, a collection of 113 prints are displayed at the Eisei Bunko Museum, Tokyo, Japan, but has been previously rejected by many other public venues. A month before display police issued warning to four weekly magazine editors for breaking ‘obscenity laws’ when publishing Shunga to support the exhibition. This form of response is not unfamiliar as in 1722, the Tokugawa shogunate issued an official ban on unauthorised books containing Shunga. Tim Clark rightly notes that “once Shunga had been officially classified as ‘obscene’, it was difficult to rescue it back into the realm of art” 4. However goes on to speculate how after the release of the exhibition that “...people in Japan are responding very positively to the beauty, humour and humanity of Shunga.” 5 Hosokawa, a former prime minister agrees with Clark and the act of making Shunga public again stating that “we must work to break the taboo.” 6
As we can see, in [Fig. 1], that Mane’emon, the protagonist, has shrunk down to ‘the size of a bean’ after having consumed a potion. In the narrative, he is told to take pleasure in roaming around and observing various sexual acts; the viewer is also, through his eyes, encouraged to observe and enjoy the follies of human nature. To his right, there is a man making love to a maid while she applies moxa (“a downy substance obtained from the dried leaves of an Asian plant related to mugwort”7). The casualness in which this act appears to be unfolding references the mundanity of everyday life, this creates a level of comfortable humour for the viewer. As referenced in the first half of this essay, text is utilised alongside Shunga in order to create a narrative or further enforce the humorous tone; here Mane’emon is realising that “One has to be a diligent worker even in the practice of lovemaking.” As he makes this comment he is seen to be rubbing moxa onto his own legs, as if tired from his erotic hike. Mane’emon also acts as a symbol for the viewer, he is never directly involved in the sexual acts and often speaks in third person, again this creates a sense of comedy through its detached nature.
In [Fig. 2], a man in a window is seen to be looking at something intently through a telescope. This image is different in the respect that it does not show blatant depictions of sexual intercourse and the character is alone. Looking closer, what at first appeared to be a part of the mans leg is revealed to actually be his fully erect penis, this sort of semi-subtlety is not common within Shunga. Due to his position (seemingly in a tower) and his actions we can assume that potentially he is stationed as a guard of some form, but instead of looking out for danger the text above translates to “My, oh my, the days are long, so I’ve borrowed a telescope. And what an amazing sight I’ve discovered!”8. We find out what the man is staring at in another image, where a couple is engaged in sexual intercourse, and if the viewer squints, they can see the man in his tower in the background of the image.
Shunga is quite often embellished with details such as ornaments, background features and clothing; most figures in Shunga are depicted as either fully or partially clothed. This reflects
Shunga is more often than not presented alongside text. It is encouraged to view Warai-e and Warai-hon as integrated works of image and text instead of separate. Typically the texts come in four sections Jobun (prefaces), Kotobagaki (narratives), Kakiire (dialogue or other such text between figures within the image), and Tsukebumi (appended texts). The prefaces are usually of historical inclination, surveying the origins of love and sex, as well as reflecting humour by imitating serious texts, which provided juxtaposition with the visual content.
When considering Edo Japan and the countries history, it does not appear that images this explicit would be accepted. Where society was under Confucian law, Shinto religion did not deem sexual pleasure a sin and these images, along with physical pleasure, was often enjoyed in private, behind closed doors, and occasionally rolled up and hid in the sleeves of Kimonos. Shunga also serves testament to an open-minded society; where European sensibilities at the time would have seen Shunga as pornographic and Christianity and Islam denounced sexual pleasure, the art was before its time in sexual liberation through erotic art. Not only does Shunga typically depict heterosexual couples but approved and encouraged homosexuality and liberated female sexuality.
However, that being said, a collection of 113 prints are displayed at the Eisei Bunko Museum, Tokyo, Japan, but has been previously rejected by many other public venues. A month before display police issued warning to four weekly magazine editors for breaking ‘obscenity laws’ when publishing Shunga to support the exhibition. This form of response is not unfamiliar as in 1722, the Tokugawa shogunate issued an official ban on unauthorised books containing Shunga. Tim Clark rightly notes that “once Shunga had been officially classified as ‘obscene’, it was difficult to rescue it back into the realm of art” 4. However goes on to speculate how after the release of the exhibition that “...people in Japan are responding very positively to the beauty, humour and humanity of Shunga.” 5 Hosokawa, a former prime minister agrees with Clark and the act of making Shunga public again stating that “we must work to break the taboo.” 6
As we can see, in [Fig. 1], that Mane’emon, the protagonist, has shrunk down to ‘the size of a bean’ after having consumed a potion. In the narrative, he is told to take pleasure in roaming around and observing various sexual acts; the viewer is also, through his eyes, encouraged to observe and enjoy the follies of human nature. To his right, there is a man making love to a maid while she applies moxa (“a downy substance obtained from the dried leaves of an Asian plant related to mugwort”7). The casualness in which this act appears to be unfolding references the mundanity of everyday life, this creates a level of comfortable humour for the viewer. As referenced in the first half of this essay, text is utilised alongside Shunga in order to create a narrative or further enforce the humorous tone; here Mane’emon is realising that “One has to be a diligent worker even in the practice of lovemaking.” As he makes this comment he is seen to be rubbing moxa onto his own legs, as if tired from his erotic hike. Mane’emon also acts as a symbol for the viewer, he is never directly involved in the sexual acts and often speaks in third person, again this creates a sense of comedy through its detached nature.
In [Fig. 2], a man in a window is seen to be looking at something intently through a telescope. This image is different in the respect that it does not show blatant depictions of sexual intercourse and the character is alone. Looking closer, what at first appeared to be a part of the mans leg is revealed to actually be his fully erect penis, this sort of semi-subtlety is not common within Shunga. Due to his position (seemingly in a tower) and his actions we can assume that potentially he is stationed as a guard of some form, but instead of looking out for danger the text above translates to “My, oh my, the days are long, so I’ve borrowed a telescope. And what an amazing sight I’ve discovered!”8. We find out what the man is staring at in another image, where a couple is engaged in sexual intercourse, and if the viewer squints, they can see the man in his tower in the background of the image.
Shunga is quite often embellished with details such as ornaments, background features and clothing; most figures in Shunga are depicted as either fully or partially clothed. This reflects
realistic, and again shows the follies of day to day life. It can also reveal context to the image;
wether it be to show the season, location or social status. In terms of technique, in pre-modern
Japan, artists were unique for drawing clothed figures without mapping out the anatomy first. This
differs from western technique as most artists in the west are encouraged to first draw the nude
figure using reference or from life, then clothe it after. This way of drawing meant that more often
than not in Shunga, the figures were not anatomically correct and clothes would be used to
disguise this in a way that maintained artistic integrity. This image in particular depicts semi-
clothed figures but instead of being engaged in sexual intercourse, the woman has sewn a small
outfit for the males genitalia and appears to be playing with it [Fig. 3]. Not only does this appear
humorous as we are encouraged to view genitalia as serious and objective instead of personifying
it, but it represents love. The woman has put in painstaking effort into making this tiny costume, is
engaged in dressing it and is treating it with care and affection.
One aspect of Shunga style that is impossible to ignore is the sheer size of the genitalia depicted. In the Heian (794-1185) and Kamakura (1185-1333) periods the male and female sexual organs were depicted as exaggerated and enlarged, whereas during the end of the eighteenth century male genitalia was mainly shown at a more realistic and natural size. There were many hypothesises for this technique, one of which being that artists desired to value the penis at the same level of importance as the head of the figure, or that simply a more realistic size would not be seen by the viewer or create enough attention. It could be that this theme was a satire on the importance men and society attach to the size of their members and was promoting men feeling equal since what was being shown was so clearly unnatural, unrealistic and completely implausible. Parodies and satires also included celebrities, such as aristocrats and Kabuki actors. Wealthy merchants and the upper class often commissioned prints of themselves or friends, therefore the enlargement or the organ could have been for flattery purposes. Measuring was also common to depict, with women using their hands to estimate the size of the male member and offer compliments, and men comparing genitals with each other and competing to show of their organs strength [Fig. 4]. The best depiction of the importance of size could be where a man is shown to be having a operation to enlarge his penis, but is seen in the next image to be unsatisfied and and complaining about the result. [Fig. 5/ Fig. 6]
I believe that typically in contemporary modern art, sex and erotica is depicted as aggressive. Sex is no longer a taboo subject, particularly in western cultures, and therefore the approach is drifted from depictions of mundane human nature to pure shock value. In my practice, I want to remove traces of aggression and bring back comedic value, to not only soften erotic art but to give it a more humane aspect again.
Humour is something I try to portray in all my personal work, wether that be in my personal performance practice or illustrative practice. I love the idea that humour lifts any subject and makes it palpable for the audience, it can also cause discomfort but is a fantastic tool in combating difficult subject matter and shocking themes. I believe that life can be hard and uncomfortable but only if you let it. Instead of “life is hard”, consider “life is stupid” and a sense of ease is procured in the knowledge that things don’t have to be dark when looked at from a humorous angle. I like my work to not take itself too seriously, or to be viewed as a satire of itself, or to labelled ‘faux-naive’ to reflect this attitude. One way in which I like to do this is by making my work visually quite influenced by “cartoon” styles seen in publications such as The Beano, which I spent a lot of time reading as a child. This style encourages the viewer to feel nostalgic as it seems out of date in modern society but paired with the content of the image (sexual acts), elicits a level of discomfort. I believe this adds to the humour as it is combining a child-like style with something considered adult and taboo.
Following this however I recognise that erotica is a topic which has been covered in the art world prolifically and is therefore a difficult subject for originality. I have paralleled some of the techniques used in Shunga in my own work; for example, the exaggerated size of the genitalia, the distortion of the figures proportions and the humorous facial expressions. Peer feedback has told me that my work was successful in portraying humour and the follies of everyday life, people enjoyed the “cartoon-esc” style of my illustrations and agreed it was a good way to bring a contemporary and personal twist on the traditional Shunga works. Overall I do feel a sense of comfort with illustrating in this way, with these themes, and feel as if I have procured a distinctive niche in which I wish to continue with my practice.
One aspect of Shunga style that is impossible to ignore is the sheer size of the genitalia depicted. In the Heian (794-1185) and Kamakura (1185-1333) periods the male and female sexual organs were depicted as exaggerated and enlarged, whereas during the end of the eighteenth century male genitalia was mainly shown at a more realistic and natural size. There were many hypothesises for this technique, one of which being that artists desired to value the penis at the same level of importance as the head of the figure, or that simply a more realistic size would not be seen by the viewer or create enough attention. It could be that this theme was a satire on the importance men and society attach to the size of their members and was promoting men feeling equal since what was being shown was so clearly unnatural, unrealistic and completely implausible. Parodies and satires also included celebrities, such as aristocrats and Kabuki actors. Wealthy merchants and the upper class often commissioned prints of themselves or friends, therefore the enlargement or the organ could have been for flattery purposes. Measuring was also common to depict, with women using their hands to estimate the size of the male member and offer compliments, and men comparing genitals with each other and competing to show of their organs strength [Fig. 4]. The best depiction of the importance of size could be where a man is shown to be having a operation to enlarge his penis, but is seen in the next image to be unsatisfied and and complaining about the result. [Fig. 5/ Fig. 6]
I believe that typically in contemporary modern art, sex and erotica is depicted as aggressive. Sex is no longer a taboo subject, particularly in western cultures, and therefore the approach is drifted from depictions of mundane human nature to pure shock value. In my practice, I want to remove traces of aggression and bring back comedic value, to not only soften erotic art but to give it a more humane aspect again.
Humour is something I try to portray in all my personal work, wether that be in my personal performance practice or illustrative practice. I love the idea that humour lifts any subject and makes it palpable for the audience, it can also cause discomfort but is a fantastic tool in combating difficult subject matter and shocking themes. I believe that life can be hard and uncomfortable but only if you let it. Instead of “life is hard”, consider “life is stupid” and a sense of ease is procured in the knowledge that things don’t have to be dark when looked at from a humorous angle. I like my work to not take itself too seriously, or to be viewed as a satire of itself, or to labelled ‘faux-naive’ to reflect this attitude. One way in which I like to do this is by making my work visually quite influenced by “cartoon” styles seen in publications such as The Beano, which I spent a lot of time reading as a child. This style encourages the viewer to feel nostalgic as it seems out of date in modern society but paired with the content of the image (sexual acts), elicits a level of discomfort. I believe this adds to the humour as it is combining a child-like style with something considered adult and taboo.
Following this however I recognise that erotica is a topic which has been covered in the art world prolifically and is therefore a difficult subject for originality. I have paralleled some of the techniques used in Shunga in my own work; for example, the exaggerated size of the genitalia, the distortion of the figures proportions and the humorous facial expressions. Peer feedback has told me that my work was successful in portraying humour and the follies of everyday life, people enjoyed the “cartoon-esc” style of my illustrations and agreed it was a good way to bring a contemporary and personal twist on the traditional Shunga works. Overall I do feel a sense of comfort with illustrating in this way, with these themes, and feel as if I have procured a distinctive niche in which I wish to continue with my practice.
Bibliography:
1. Newberry, M. (March 10, 2017) “Drawing a Line between Pornograhy and Art” [online] article,
[Accessed Feb 2018].
2. Clark, T., Gerstle, C., Yano, A., Ishigami, A. (2013) “Shunga: Sex and Pleasure in Japanese Art” The British Museum
3. Translation taken from: Higuchi, K., & Haft, A. (2013) “No Laughing Matter: A Ghastly ‘Shunga’ Illustration by Utagawa Toyokuni.” Japan Review, no. 26, pp. 239–255.
4. / 5. / 6. McCurry, J. (2018). “Pornography or erotic art? Japanese museum aims to confront shunga taboo”. [online] The Guardian. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/nov/ 11/pornography-or-erotic-art-japanese-museum-aims-to-confront-shunga-taboo [Accessed 17 March. 2018].
7. Oxford English Dictionary, [online], 2018
8. Translation taken from: Higuchi, K., & Haft, A. (2013) “No Laughing Matter: A Ghastly ‘Shunga’ Illustration by Utagawa Toyokuni.” Japan Review, no. 26, pp. 239–255. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/41959826.
Figure 1. Suzuki Harunobu, Enshoku Mane’emon, 1770. International Research Centre for Japanese Studies
Figure 2. Utagawa Toyokuni, Vol. 2, illust. 8 of Oyogari no koe, 1822. International Research Centre for Japanese Studies
Figure 3. Katsushika Hokusai, 1930’s, Woodblock-printed oban, single print. Shagan, O. Japanese Erotic Art: The Hidden World of Shunga
Figure 4. Tosa Mitsusuke, head of the Tosa School Yobutsu-kurabe, 1675-1710. Hand-painted handscroll on silk, with gold
Figure 5. Katshushike Hokusu, Konsai-reimu-den, 1815. Woodblock-printed hanshi-bon Figure 6. Katshushike Hokusu, Konsai-reimu-den, 1815. Woodblock-printed hanshi-bon
General texts used as reference:
Gerstle, C., & Clark, T. (2013) “Introduction.” Japan Review, no. 26, pp. 3–14. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/41959814.
Higuchi, K., & Haft, A. (2013) “No Laughing Matter: A Ghastly ‘Shunga’ Illustration by Utagawa Toyokuni.” Japan Review, no. 26, pp. 239–255. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/41959826.
Saito, K. (2011) “Desire in Subtext: Gender, Fandom, and Women's Male-Male Homoerotic Parodies in Contemporary Japan.” Mechademia, vol. 6, pp. 171–191. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/41511578.
Berry, P. (2004) “Rethinking ‘Shunga’: The Interpretation of Sexual Imagery of the Edo
Period.” Archives of Asian Art, vol. 54, pp. 7–22. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/20111313.
2. Clark, T., Gerstle, C., Yano, A., Ishigami, A. (2013) “Shunga: Sex and Pleasure in Japanese Art” The British Museum
3. Translation taken from: Higuchi, K., & Haft, A. (2013) “No Laughing Matter: A Ghastly ‘Shunga’ Illustration by Utagawa Toyokuni.” Japan Review, no. 26, pp. 239–255.
4. / 5. / 6. McCurry, J. (2018). “Pornography or erotic art? Japanese museum aims to confront shunga taboo”. [online] The Guardian. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/nov/ 11/pornography-or-erotic-art-japanese-museum-aims-to-confront-shunga-taboo [Accessed 17 March. 2018].
7. Oxford English Dictionary, [online], 2018
8. Translation taken from: Higuchi, K., & Haft, A. (2013) “No Laughing Matter: A Ghastly ‘Shunga’ Illustration by Utagawa Toyokuni.” Japan Review, no. 26, pp. 239–255. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/41959826.
Figure 1. Suzuki Harunobu, Enshoku Mane’emon, 1770. International Research Centre for Japanese Studies
Figure 2. Utagawa Toyokuni, Vol. 2, illust. 8 of Oyogari no koe, 1822. International Research Centre for Japanese Studies
Figure 3. Katsushika Hokusai, 1930’s, Woodblock-printed oban, single print. Shagan, O. Japanese Erotic Art: The Hidden World of Shunga
Figure 4. Tosa Mitsusuke, head of the Tosa School Yobutsu-kurabe, 1675-1710. Hand-painted handscroll on silk, with gold
Figure 5. Katshushike Hokusu, Konsai-reimu-den, 1815. Woodblock-printed hanshi-bon Figure 6. Katshushike Hokusu, Konsai-reimu-den, 1815. Woodblock-printed hanshi-bon
General texts used as reference:
Gerstle, C., & Clark, T. (2013) “Introduction.” Japan Review, no. 26, pp. 3–14. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/41959814.
Higuchi, K., & Haft, A. (2013) “No Laughing Matter: A Ghastly ‘Shunga’ Illustration by Utagawa Toyokuni.” Japan Review, no. 26, pp. 239–255. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/41959826.
Saito, K. (2011) “Desire in Subtext: Gender, Fandom, and Women's Male-Male Homoerotic Parodies in Contemporary Japan.” Mechademia, vol. 6, pp. 171–191. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/41511578.
Berry, P. (2004) “Rethinking ‘Shunga’: The Interpretation of Sexual Imagery of the Edo
Period.” Archives of Asian Art, vol. 54, pp. 7–22. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/20111313.
